Maidas Little Shop | Page 7

empty now, of
course. Maida limped over to the window. "Oh, oh, oh!" she cried; "did
you ever see such a darling little yard?"
"It surely is little," Billy agreed, "not much bigger than a pocket

handkerchief, is it?"
And yet, scrap of a place as the yard was, it had an air of completeness,
a pretty quaintness. Two tiny brick walks curved from the door to the
gate. On either side of these spread out microscopic flower-beds,
crowded tight with plants. Late-blooming dahlias and asters made spots
of starry color in the green. A vine, running over the door to the second
story, waved like a crimson banner dropped from the window.
"The old lady must have been fond of flowers," Billy Potter said. He
squinted his near-sighted blue eyes and studied the bunches of green.
"Syringa bush in one corner. Lilac bush in the other. Nasturtiums at the
edges. Morning-glories running up the fence. Sunflowers in between.
My, won't it be fun to see them all racing up in the spring!"
Maida jumped up and down at the thought. She could not jump like
other children. Indeed, this was the first time that she had ever tried. It
was as if her feet were like flat-irons. Granny Flynn turned quickly
away and Billy bit his lips.
"I know just how I'm going to fix this room up for you, Petronilla,"
Billy said, nodding his head mysteriously. "Now let's go into the
kitchen."
The kitchen led from the living-room. Billy exclaimed when he saw it
and Maida shook her hands, but it was Granny who actually screamed
with delight.
Much bigger than the living-room, it had four windows with sunshine
pouring in through every one of them. But it was not the four windows
nor yet the sunshine that made the sensation--it was the stone floor.
"We'll put a carpet on it if you think it's too cold, Granny," Billy
suggested immediately.
"Oh, lave it be, Misther Billy," Granny begged. "'Tis loike me ould
home in Oireland. Sure 'tis homesick Oi am this very minut looking at
ut."

"All right," Billy agreed cheerfully. "What you say goes, Granny. Now
upstairs to the sleeping-rooms."
To get to the second floor they climbed a little stairway not more than
three feet wide, with steps very high, most of them triangular in shape
because the stairway had to turn so often. And upstairs--after they got
there--consisted of three rooms, two big and square and light, and one
smaller and darker.
"The small room is to be made into a bathroom," Billy explained, "and
these two big ones are to be your bedrooms. Which one will you have,
Maida?"
Maida examined both rooms carefully. "Well, I don't care for myself
which I have," she said. "But it does seem as if there were a
teeny-weeny more sun in this one. I think Granny ought to have it, for
she loves the sunshine on her old bones. You know, Billy, Granny and I
have the greatest fun about our bones. Hers are all wrong because
they're so old, and mine are all wrong because they're so young."
"All right," Billy agreed. "Sunshiny one for Granny, shady one for you.
That's settled! I hope you realize, Miss Maida, Elizabeth, Fairfax,
Petronilla, Pinkwink, Posie Westabrook what perfectly bully rooms
these are! They're as old as Noah."
"I'm glad they're old," Maida said. "But of course they must be. This
house was here when Dr. Pierce was a little boy. And that must have
been a long, long, long time ago."
"Just look at the floors," Billy went on admiringly. "See how uneven
they are. You'll have to walk straight here, Petronilla, to keep from
falling down. That old wooden wainscoting is simply charming. That's
a nice old fireplace too. And these old doors are perfect."
Granny Flynn was working the latch of one of the old doors with her
wrinkled hands. "Manny's the toime Oi've snibbed a latch loike that in
Oireland," she said, and she smiled so hard that her very wrinkles
seemed to twinkle.

"And look at the windows, Granny," Billy said. "Sixteen panes of glass
each. I hope you'll make Petronilla wash them."
"Oh, Granny, will you let me wash the windows?" Maida asked
ecstatically.
"When you're grand and sthrong," Granny promised.
"I know just how I'll furnish the room," Billy said half to himself.
"Oh, Billy, tell me!" Maida begged.
"Can't," he protested mischievously. "You've got to wait till it's all
finished before you see hide or hair of it."
"I know I'll die of curiosity," Maida protested. "But then of course I
shall be very busy with my own business."
"Ah, yes," Billy replied. "Now that you've embarked on a mercantile
career, Miss Westabrook, I think you'll find that you'll have less and
less